


"elders of the gentle race, my ass"

by fannishliss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Women of Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ficlet feat. Madison from 2.17 Heart  and mentioned in 4.17 It's A Terrible Life</p>
            </blockquote>





	"elders of the gentle race, my ass"

**"elders of the gentle race, my ass"**

Two brothers who spend as much time together as Sam and Dean do have to have a few little rules to make things work.  One of the rules is that Dean pretends to believe that Sam is sleeping when he leans his head against the window and evens out his breath.   Dean might put in Physical Graffiti, and turn it down a little, and pilot his way through the night, thinking and driving, as Sam breathes low.

Dean is by nature, a happy kind of guy--- he thinks the best of people, he takes pleasure where he finds it -- but even so, he can't help but brood at the way a lot of things have turned out.

Not even the big things -- that shit is really just too freaking big, and Dean tries to avoid thinking about it.   But just the little things, like getting mindfucked by Angels.  Angels, goddamn it! -- who steal you and mindwash you and dig out all the little details you'd want to keep hidden and brandish them around for everyone to see.

Like yeah, maybe he thinks of Bobby in a lot of the same ways he thought of his Dad -- and it was obvious to him at least that he saw Jo as kind of a little sister -- and Ellen would make a kick-ass Mom, and his real Mom would probably have liked her a lot -- but he really didn't want Sam to know that in his deepest darkest vault of secrets, Dean dreamed that he could've gone to Stanford too -- that he could have somehow risen above his status as a grunt -- that he damn well could have been a freaking accountant, and worked a clean job for once in his life!  Dean had never been so clean as when he was Dean Smith--  maybe a little empty, but blissfully clean.

But it wasn't just Dean Smith and his secretly true background that pissed Dean off about the Angelfuck at Sandover.  It was that whole goddamn thing with Madison, the dead girl werewolf from Sam's past.

Dean had liked Madison, and he thought of her with regret.  He was certainly happy to leave Sam alone with the smart, fiery women -- the kind of sassy women Winchester men preferred (even though Dean knew Sam was still keeping in touch with that super sweet Sarah at regular/irregular intervals.)  It had really sucked when it turned out that Madison was a werewolf, and Sammy had desperately clutched at straws, trying to find some way out for her, and then he had been the one who she asked to pull the trigger.  The girl had a spine, Dean admired that for sure.  Madison knew what she was capable of as a werewolf, and she made the right, courageous decision.  Didn't make it any easier for Sammy though.

So when that dick Zack had pulled the whammy off, and everything went dingy again, and all their messed up lives came rushing back in on Dean -- he was angry, and ashamed, and exposed -- but he was also pissed off on Sammy's behalf.

Dean could see why the Angels had made Madison the girlfriend -- it wouldn't do to have Sam call Sarah and have her ask after brother Dean.  But couldn't Zack have ordered Cas to answer Madison's number?  They had that whole freaky fake voice Angel mojo thing.

Dean always came to the same conclusion:  the Angels were dicks.  They were just dicks, to let on that Sam was no better than a guy with a dog for a girlfriend -- not just a werewolf  who'd gracefully taken the high road home -- but a dog that had been put down.  It was disrespectful, and it pissed Dean off.

Cas had eventually come around, and Dean was at least grateful for that.  But the other Angels, especially Z, were nothing but a bunch of supercilious jerks.  He was done with them. And oh yeah, he would finish their little war -- but on his own time, and with his brother by his side, no thanks to them. 

Dean stepped down on the gas.  He didn't have wings, and he didn't have mojo.  All he had was himself, a car, and an arsenal.  But all those things he would place between his brother, asleep or brooding against the glass, and the dicks who called themselves Angels, and their stupid stupid war, the Apocalypse they'd apparently planned all along. With Sam beside him, Dean would stop it on behalf of  the humans, not the Angels, who thought his brother was a monster, fit for a dog.  



End file.
